The Art of Killing Roses
by Silverleaf1590
Summary: Aya reminices over the events of his life as the end of his story draws near.


The Art of Killing Roses  


Written by: DarkDreamer15

Warnings: No, I don't own the Weiss boys. I wish I did! Other big thing **this story contains lots and lots of spoilers. You don't want to read what happens at the ending of Gluhen, please do not read.**

Summary: Aya reminicing over the events in his life. Happens just before the ending to Gluhen.

People are like roses… 

On the stone hidden in my heart

What breaks is redness: red tears

Are flowing, aren't they?

But they're deceiving…

The heartbreaking feelings subside 

As the thing that fills my heart became a stone

For that reason, love dies out

And is not born again

I heard it somewhere

I heard it from someone

It's a foolish story

Sad, isn't it?

-Weiss Kreuz

Like a dream, like a p  
lague, like a certain sweet smell that comes only after a good long rain.

That's all it ever meant to me in this life.

Weiss is gone, forever disbanded into the mists of time. We came and we went and nobody ever bothered to notice that we had disappeared.

Persia remained with his family, ever loyal to the ones who betrayed him in his childhood. To me he would always remain as Omi. I will always view him as I did that first night I beheld him. His eyes were filled with an unnatural anger and a viciousness that rivaled even mine. He killed sinners without remorse. He knew no guilt in his life, only a haunting shadow of regret that lingered with him. Yet somehow he could cast his demons away with the night, and by morning, when we opened shop, he was always there, bright, lively and cheerful. No one could have known by appearances that there was blood on his hands.

Yohji was gone too, forever lost the his dreams of his past. He mourned for his lost love. Even though he never knew it, I heard his wailings during the nights. When the alcohol from the numerous drinks ran wild through his system and his emotions were loosed along with them, he would lie sobbing in his bed. I could hear her name being murmured over and over again, like a chant to bring back the deceased. I can never forget that name. Asuka. His partner, his lover, his life, his soul. He was always searching for her through the many women he shuffled in and out of his life like a stack of playing cards. He always searched, but he never found his Queen. He lost his passion, his will to survive. He wanted to forget, to continue on living without the nagging feeling that he was missing something.

He forgot that he was Weiss.

He forgot who he was. What he had –all of us had- become the moment we became Weiss. We were the Hunters of the Night, the ones that brought justice upon the men deemed worthy of death. We were killers. We were saviors. We became the victims to a never-ending spiral of death.

And we were supposed to be innocent. Why? Because Kritiker honey-glossed our targets with evil. So long as we remained under the illusionary wing of Kritiker, we were free of any condemnation.

I knew it wasn't true. I knew it from the beginning. Yet once I stepped into their realm where they rule with the iron fist of death, I could never escape. I was branded their property, forever bound until death, and I took it all willingly for her.

Aya.

She is my sister. My beautiful rose that became dormant under the spell of unconsciousness. She was violently thrown out of life to lie in a hospital bed for three eternal years. Takatori, Omi's family, plotted against my family and insinuated our demise. They would have succeeded but for one miscalculation.

Me.

They sent my parents from this world and put my sister into a coma, but they failed to destroy me. I was allowed to live with my righteous anger. I swore to avenge my fallen family at any cost.

So I jumped almost willingly into the hands of Kritiker. I would have done anything at the time to remove the stench of blood from my hands. Kritiker offered me a false hope; so long as I worked for them I would not be labeled a murderer. I could not become one of the evil ones.

Then came Esset and Schwartz, our rivals, our most hated enemy. They were the only things that tied us together, that made our little band something remotely like a family. Despite our disputes, there was always one thing we could fall back on. Esset and their collaboration must be eliminated at all costs.

We were so much like a family (even though I could barely admit it then). Omi's constant whining, Ken's obsession with soccer, Yohji's late nights, they all became a normal for me. I wish above all else that those moments could continue on forever. That those few, sparse moments when sanity ruled and the chains around our hearts and necks would surprisingly disappear, could always be something apart of my life.

It's gone now. Everything is gone.

All our guilt and shame caught up with us. All the pain inside multiplied until we couldn't stand it anymore. We hated ourselves. When we looked in the mirror, we could only see what he had become. The beasts inside us tore at the pliable walls of our hearts, ripping, tearing, shredding anything we had left of value. We couldn't run away though. We were held in place as our souls were eaten alive. It became so bad that we couldn't see any sort of light anymore. Everything was evil. Our partners were evil. But worst of all, we were evil. The justifications that we once held onto tightly became nothing more than butterfly wings. Always flitting between our fingers, beautiful colors that pleased the eye but made it no less easy to catch. Even if we did catch it, it only broke underneath our grasps and we were left empty handed once again.

Then he came. So young, so seemingly innocent, only to be marred by the gruesome hand of death and destruction. He reminded me so much of myself. I couldn't help but affiliate myself with him. I admire him for the fact that he always kept his will focused. He never allowed himself to be deterred by the other courses of life. He never let his eyes wander away from his goal. He had to find out the truth to his father and sister's murders. He had to find out why his mother became a murderer and then disappeared.

So Weiss set off on a quest to discover the truth and exact justice on the evil ones. Sena went with us, ever willing, ever ready, straight into the arms of his death.

He told me he couldn't do it. He couldn't kill his mother who had shamelessly killed the rest of his family. In the end he still loved her, even to the point of death. He left me with the task of shedding yet more innocent blood. I had no choice but to avenge my fallen comrade and to free his mother from the clutches of Epitaph.

With the destruction of Epitaph also came the destruction of our group. The Temple of the Underworld threatened to collapse on us all. I didn't worry though; I thought we all had enough time to make our escape. My hope vanished when I saw Yohji.

He was trapped inside one of the main rooms, debris falling around him like rain. Blood covered the ground on where he laid, the wall behind his back and on the lady which he had killed with my own sword. There was an expression of peace on his face though. An expression I hadn't seen on his face since I had joined Weiss. He knew who he was again. He knew he couldn't fight his past anymore; he had to embrace his past and learn to love his future, whatever that might be.

There was no future for him though. He died along with Weiss.

He perished with my sword at his side. I can hear his words playing ceaselessly over and over again in my mind.

"Alright, I'll make it home. Home is where you are. I am Weiss. See ya soon."

The truth is, is that no matter how much I hated myself, hated my way of life, hated the lies and the deception, I wanted to go back to that. I wanted to go back to that flower shop. I wanted to spend the rest of the night patching up each others wounds, never sleeping for the vivid nightmares that would come should our eyes shut and we be cast into oblivion. I wanted to hear Yohji's drunken discourse, when he whined and pined about how he was certainly _not_ drunk and that him falling over two chairs, a coffee table, and a sofa was nothing out of the ordinary. He would lie on the floor rambling endlessly about some random date in the past, how cute she was, what her home life was like, and the step-by-step process he dubiously named "Kudoh Seduction". He would talk for hours on end; it didn't matter whether it was to us or the wall. Ken, Omi, and I never stopped him though. We knew that this was his way of escape. That he had to keep his mind off the events of the night.

We each had our own way with dealing with the after-effects of a mission.

Ken would walk aimlessly around the house, football in tow. He liked to do fancy tricks with it like balancing it on his head or seeing how many times he could kick it and keep it up in the air. Woe be on any man who disturbed him though. The snarling and the "almost getting your head bitten off by an emotionally strung up brunette" was not worth the two seconds of sheer horror on his face if you should interrupt him.

Omi was a bit more transparent about his feelings. He always went on a two or three hour moping streak with a half gallon of ice cream permanently fixed to his side. His escape was to stare blankly at a TV screen while absentmindedly nibbling on the ice cream. His time of reminiscing was officially over once there was no more ice cream left. Then he would get up, with all the cuteness of a seven-year-old boy and announce the time we would be opening shop later on in the morning. He left the room with an air of certainty that all was right in the world once more.

I, on the other hand, did next to nothing.

I only watched my comrades go about their routine, making sure that Ken didn't break anything of value, that Yohji didn't suddenly decide that he could fly and jump out a two-story window, and that Omi didn't linger too long on the TV. Their habits became a part of mine. We were intertwined in a way none of us ever knew at the time.

Those connections are broken now.

Weiss is forever gone. Never again can those moment be relived or new ones be made. They are now nothing more than a memory, ghosts that will forever haunt our past.

Even with Weiss gone, I still remain who I am. I still remain a Hunter of the Night. I still slaughter evil ones for the innocent. The blood remains forever a part of my nature. Even if the wing of protection is removed, the hunter must still hunt. It is the path that I have chosen. I shall always be a murderer for the cause of justice.

I still fight for her.

I fight so that Aya will be safe. So that she can live a life free of pain and destruction, even at the cost of my soul. I could not leave her while she slept. I cannot leave her now that she is awake.

But I must leave her. I cannot let her innocence be marred by my bloody sins.

I should have known that my becoming Weiss would cost me everything. Somehow I allowed myself to come under the delusion that if I kept fighting long enough, if I avenged our parent's deaths and Aya awakened out of her slumber, all would go back to the way things were. Aya would once again be my lovely rose, and she could somehow lead me into the light.

It is not true though. There is no salvation to those who have signed their souls to the Devil. She couldn't stay with me anyway. It would be too dangerous. She would definitely be used against me. She could be kidnapped, stolen from me once again, and if something happened to her… I could never forgive myself.

So here I am, on the streets of New York City, staring at the snow falling so perfectly around me. I can hear the happy murmur of people wishing each other a Merry Christmas. All around is innocence. I am the bringer of their life. I am the sacrifice for their happiness. I no not what the future holds for me, but I shall face it with dignity knowing I have done my part in the world.

Through it all I know only one thing:

I am Weiss.

Notes: Much thanks to everyone for reading this! Please C and C and leave me lovely pieces of candy wrapped up in red ribbon. Better yet... make that some hot bishie left on my bed with red ribbon. Much more enjoyable! Nodds head


End file.
